


McQueen McFucking Dies (and Jackson Reflects) or ‘I Hate You’

by KauHuf



Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Movie: Cars 3, crack gift gone serious, i edited it, vroom vroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KauHuf/pseuds/KauHuf
Summary: What if Cruz and Lightning never met, and Lightning stayed in racing for a while longer, letting his rivalry with Jackson grow from millennial versus generation x to frenemies status?And then what if Lightning crashed?





	McQueen McFucking Dies (and Jackson Reflects) or ‘I Hate You’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [skelefriend](skelefriend.tumblr.com/)for beta reading, check out her tumblr! She's a Cool Dude.
> 
> And to my Bean, [Serikly](serikly.tumblr.com/), a gift. Check out her tumblr!

 

The race started out fine. Down to the final twenty laps, the Top Ten pretty much secured with no surprise the Next Gens dominated, though the older racers held their own well.

At the head of it all, of all the exhausted racers still fighting to at least _place_ in the Top, of the already foreboding storm front rumbling low and menacing, of even Jackson Storm himself, was none other than Lightning Mc-fucking-Queen.

He had pulled ahead early on and stayed firmly there, only passed by Storm a few precious times; precious because it almost seemed as if he was taunting the young racer, falling back only to suddenly gain a burst of speed and pull rapidly ahead with a smug smirk.

 “Second Wind!” The red stock car had laughed while speeding off one day, leaving a trail of dust behind him on one of the rare occasions they had tolerated each other for after race pictures.

Storm hated him.

***

Before Lightning’s first crash, Storm had been eager to meet him, to let him know his time was limited and that _he_ a fresh and newly designed model, was the future of racing. After, he had been bitter, praying the veteran would return so he could beat him properly again, and again, and again.

When weeks turned to months with little news of Lightning’s condition he let his hope fade, assuming the older car had unofficially retired, and that the reign of Lightning —and subsequently Gen X’s— was over.

Oh, he had been wrong. Word on the track was that in the 2 weeks before the Florida 500, Lightning had been training with some old timers up by Thunder Hollow. Storm had heard of it, but such…activities were below him.

Whatever he had done worked, because he roared back into racing, all 750-horsepower of him, boasting over 200 mph with new tricks, as confident as ever.

Storm had tried to intimidate him, tried to spook him into finally giving up.

It hadn’t worked, not even slightly.

The whole thing had left him twitchy and angry for the remainder of the day and night as he revved angrily in his trailer. Second place was first place for losers, how could _he_ come second to a has-been!?

Gale had eventually told him to calm down and go to sleep over the intercom, or she’d pull over and make him. The threat was mild at best; the hauler was just sleepy herself and a gentle giant. She couldn’t harm a June-Bug, let alone her Boss.

And admittedly, Storm had been afraid, but not of Lightning. He’d never been afraid of another Car in his life, and he wasn’t gonna start then. No, he was afraid of a second place rank would leave his sponsors less than pleased, but it had been opposite—he had placed in the Top 3, ensuring that their investment wasn’t in vain, but still.

He was better than that, had worked his way to the top with hours of training and data locked into those machines and simulators. What did Lightning McQueen have? A jar of dirt? Ha!

…but he _did_ have a jar of dirt, and hours of training and work himself. And a part—a small part! —of Storm felt a kinship with that _one_ sentiment. So maybe the chaste, genuine smiles Lightning aimed at him over a sea of paparazzi weren’t so bad, and if Storm returned them with a not so smug grin, well, who was to admit it?

***

They were duking it out nearly nose and nose, the leaders of the pack for the last few laps. There would be tons more races, Storm knew. Lightning showed no signs of slowing down, literally and figuratively.

Jackson Storm looked forward to what their future held.

 Storm could hear Lightning’s gasps, even over the roar of the crowd and the rev of dozens of engines. Or maybe it was imagined, but he definitely looked strained, the final laps taking their toll. The brewing weather above rumbled thunder and smelled of electricity. Even in the heat of the race, with the smell of oil and burning rubber tinting the air, everyone knew: a Storm was brewing.

His engine ached and screamed for reprieve, his axels squealed and he just wanted a dam drink of oil, but there were just a few laps left-

-and then it was like the world held its breath as Storm felt Lightning slam into his side. He spun out, and the world was flashes of color and light, too fast to decipher but somehow so slow-

-and he heard screams as he finally slammed his wheels and skidded to a stop on the grass-

-and he _saw_ the final roll, heard the metal that made up Lightning’s frame creak and bend and twist-

-and the wail of sirens and gasps of fear as he tried to get his bearings, the ambulance that rushed to him and asked him if he was okay, he saw Sally on the track, _she wasn’t supposed to do that_ , and heard his own crew calling him through the headset but he _couldn’t answer-_

And then it was quiet.

_***_

He woke up in a plain white room.

A machine beeped steadily next to him as he came to.

Storm was settled comfortably off to the side, a large window letting in a dull light even with the blinds drawn. Storm could hear…thunder?

He groaned and tried to rise up a little, but the moment he moved, everything _ached_.

He was hooked to a portable IV, a steady drip of _something_ trickling down. He managed to roll slowly toward the window and click the button on the ground to open them a bit. A storm raged outside, low rumbles followed by cracks of lightning ripping the skies.

Lightning.

_Lightning._

“Fucking crashed.” Storm groaned. Not like this, surely, not Lightning of all racers.

He turned when he heard the door slide open to a small nurse, petite and pale. Her paint was the standard white, but there was a distinctive tinge of pink, natural or added he couldn’t tell.

“Mr. Storm! You’re awake! We were hoping to see a little progress, but good to see you’re up and about!” She said cheerily.

“Yeah…” He murmured.

“How do you feel? Groggy, hungry, nauseous, etc.?” She buzzed around him as she grilled him, and he found he could barely keep up, still stuck on ‘you’re awake’.

“Uhhh…” He managed.

“Oh! Excuse me; it’s always good when we see racers up and going! Most take some time, but here you are!” She smiled warmly and guided him back to the corner where he settled again.

“What…happened?” He asked slowly.

“There was an accident, Mr. Storm, on the track. Final 10, a spin out, and you were caught in the crossfire. You skidded a bit, but suffered only minor damage. You’ll be back on your way in no time!” Her cheerful demeanor was strangely reassuring considering Storm found cars that were perpetually happy annoying, but she was oddly pleasant.

“There was a…crash?”

“Ah…yes, there was. But, please rest! It’s wonderful that you’re talking clearly and moving on your own, so let’s keep that progress up!”

He wanted to ask more questions to get a better idea of what he suspected, but she had dimmed the lights, shut the blinds and gently closed the door so quickly it put his pit crew to shame.

Left in the silence, he rested fully on his tires. He had spun out, enough to warrant a hospital stay, but what had happened to Lightning? He hadn’t just spun, he rolled.

A final death toll for most racers careers.

He humphed and closed his eyes. The old car was fine. He’d be shocked if he didn’t come in to taunt him soon. He was probably a little patchy, but he’d be fine.

He had to be.

***

He tried to get answers from his visiting crew chief, but Ray was little help.

“Look kid, worry about yourself, then we’ll talk. You took a big hit, just focus on getting better.” The jet black truck had chided.

“I feel fine. I’m not tired; I don’t feel sick, I’m hardly even sore! Put me on a treadmill and I’ll _still_ top my speed!” Jackson had responded as firmly as he could. He was released from the IV but still stuck on technical ‘bed rest’ until he had the Doctors full okay.

Ray sighed and closed his eyes.

“You’ve gone through the simulators, studied the courses, and know the precautions, Jackson-you’re not stupid. I’ll add you to the roster when I’m sure you’re better.”

The truck had opened steel gray eyes and stared Storm down.

“And not a second sooner.”

He had left a while after; making sure Storm was actually confined to his room. The racer hated when his chief babied him, but hated it more when he gave him _that_ look. He was pitch black and well versed in what many next gens called ‘the dad look.’

The ultimate look of shame and disappointment.

“Can I at least have a TV?” Storm had asked before Ray left.

“Absolutely not.” Had been the cool response.

***

The days seemed to slow and time seemed personally against Storm as everything dragged on, to the point where he wondered if he could make a break for it. He was on step 43 of his escape plan when Nurse Joy—the petite off pink Prius— knocked, stepped in, and assured him he had no brain damage and his dents, while painful were superficial all in one breath.

“So I can leave?” He’d asked hopefully.

“Oh, that’s not my call! Doctor Gehrdhart is very thorough; she wants to ensure you’re full wellbeing!” Joy had chirped happily.

“So not leaving anytime soon?” He’d sighed.

“Unfortunately, not today, no. Or this week. _Buuuut_ , you do have a visitor in the back garden! She can’t come upstairs, size and all that, but there’s plenty of room out there! Plus, it’s a nice day and I think a romp outside will do you good! I know you racing types get antsy inside…”

He knew who it was before he’d even fully got out the door and saw her.

“Gale!” He shouted happily, nearly colliding with the hauler.

“Whoa, there! We don’t want another accident, Storm!” She’d laughed heartily.

“I’m honestly kinda…shocked you came.” He said, pulling back to look at her.

“I never abandon my cargo, kid. You technically count. Besides, figured you could use an excuse to run some quick laps. Heard those Doctors were watching you like a P-15.”

Gale and he had been together since he’d joined up with Ray. He hadn’t expected to A) like her and B) enjoy her company as much as he did, but she was actually good conversation.

“Heck yeah I do, but uh…how are things? Outside, I mean?” He asked.

Gale laughed and started to roll forward, inviting Storm to steadily move alongside her.

“You’re not in prison, Storm. There is no ‘outside’.”

“Gale, I don’t even have a TV, it feels like prison. I’ve been making an escape plan, I’m that desperate.”

“You are such a drama queen!” She laughed.

“I am not! You try being trapped in a room for hours a day! Only time they let me leave is to do physical therapy or go through the halls.” He’d growled out.

“I know, Boss, but it’s only for a while longer. At least you’re okay.” She said gently.

He huffed and got quiet. Snapping at his hauler wasn’t going to solve his boredom, or get him out sooner.

Wait, what did she mean at least he was okay?

“Gale, I just spun out a bit, I was dazed but I didn’t even go that far.” He said, slowing down.

Gale hesitated but kept going forward, sputtering out; “Oh? Well, we were all still worried, y’know, racing is a dangerous profession!”

“Gale, what happened to Lightning?”

Gale was horrible at keeping secrets. She was stone faced on the track, but an open book any other time.

“Gale?” He asked, rolling forward a bit.

“Uh…hey! Did you know patients planted these flowers? The Nurse told me earlier they have planting sessions in spring!” She said quickly.

Storm revved his engine and spun so he faced Gale fully, startling her into a full stop.

“Gale. What happened to Lightning?” He repeated, slowly and deliberately.

“I…Jackson look; you’ve been racing for a while now, things happen all the time, right? Sometimes you just got to let go…”

“Did he make it?”

“Jack-“

He caught her gaze and she cast her eyes down and sighed deeply.

“There…there was nothing they could do. By the time they got him in ICU… he was gone.” Gale finished quietly.

The garden was silent save for occasional chirping. Storm pulled back a few inches.

“…oh.” He finally murmured.

“Ray didn’t want me to tell you, and he asked the Hospital not to give you even a magazine from the last few weeks, _I_ thought the whole thing was unfair, you two are-weren’t exactly pals, but still!” Gale rushed out suddenly, tense and worried all at once as she looked nervously down at Storm.

He hadn’t moved from his downcast look, eyes distant.

“Boss?  Storm? Please say something.” She pleaded.

“I uh…”He cleared his throat. “I’m not really sure what to say.” He whispered.

“I wanted to tell you. Lightning was…I know you didn’t really like him, but you two were kinda friendly, sometimes, occasionally. I think Ray is just worried, but…”Gale frowned. “You have the right to know. He shouldn’t have kept it from ya.”

Storm glanced up at Gale.

“Any…thing else I should know?” He asked.

Gale sighed and rolled forward to gently nudge him.

“The public funeral is next week. His family already did their personals.”

***

It was sunny over the Dinoco Track as boring cars droned about boring things they would never fully grasp. This was probably the first time there tires had touched the track, what did they know about real racing?

Next came the actual racers, those who had been alongside Lightning, trained with him, knew him better than a drooling voice trying to weave in the political side of racing. Cal—sweet, innocent, kind of dopey Cal—gave a speech so heartfelt and sincere that Storm was certain there wasn’t a dry eye in the stands.

Almost made him forget his still primed and painful side, or the fact that for all the good-natured jokes, everyone was here to mourn a life.

He wasn’t surprised Sally and the rest of Lightings rag-tag crew had declined the public address, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get his condolences out proper. Storm had managed to break away from Ray and drive down to Route 66, which was currently swamped with camera crews and journalist. He took a back road and found himself at Willy’s Butte. Sure enough, perched quietly on the edge, was none other than Sally.

He’d pulled up quietly and cleared his throat. “Not considering going over, are ya?”

She jerked back, startled until she saw who it was.

“Storm.” Was all she said.

He pulled up beside her slowly, a few respectable feet between them. “I came by to just…see how everyone here was handling things.”

“I see…” She said, still hesitant to move back to her spot.

Storm sighed and turned slightly.

“I didn’t hate Lightning. And, I’m sure _my_ face, of all cars, is less than welcome here, but I’m not here to make things worse or…or mock you or anything cause…” He huffed and turned back to the view.

“…he was a good racer. And a decent friend. That’s all.”

The sound of crackling gravel signaled Sally had moved, and Storm could feel her eyes on him.

“…you could have called. I’m sure a big shot like you could have pulled some strings.”

“That’s fuc-messed up. A call is cowardly. Jackson Storm is no coward.”

The following soft chuckle made him turn and make eye contact for the first time with Sally.

“I see why he liked you. You two weren’t so different.” Her eyes were sad, maybe a little damp but Storm was silent, instead looking at a spot on the ground.

“He didn’t hate you ether. He did at first, though.” Sally said.

“That’s fair.”

“Like, a lot.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He would literally say your name like it was poison, it was great.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Carrera.”

Her smile didn’t falter even as she sniffled and looked back over the Butte. “You motivated him though, and for that I’m thankful. You helped re-lite that spark in him, even if only for a little while longer.”

Storm snorted. “I doubt that. Any progress he made was his own. I just…antagonized him.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Kind of…regret that, honestly.”

“Don’t. Trust me, it helped. A little rivalry always got Lightning going.”

At the sound of his name, Storm opened his eyes and glanced at Sally. “…good to know, then.”

“Hmm.”

***

They sat in silence for a while until the sun finally slipped below the horizon.

“Well, I gotta go. Ray’s gonna kill me when I get back.” Storm said.

“You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lightning used to sneak away from Doc all the time, just drive as fast as you can from him, he’ll give up eventually.” Sally said.

As he turned to head back up the road and Sally down the other way, she called him back.

“Hey…he said something, before…” She cleared her throat.

He rolled back so he faced her again.

“He said it wasn’t you’re fault. The crash. Never think it was on you.” Sally smiled gently.

Storm smiled back, small but honest, relief seeming to lift a weight he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Thank you, Ms. Carrera.”

“Call me Sally, Storm. He said something else.”

“What was it?”

Sally smiled as she turned, the first rays of moonlight glinting off her paint.

“Ka-chow!”

The last Storm heard was Sally’s laughter as she sped off and he growled out a few choice words to her quickly fading dust trail. He shook his hood and turned back to the overlook.

 He wondered if Lightning came here, and how he’d found it. If it was one of the views he’d fallen in love with.

He chuckled and turned. “I hate you, Lightning Mc-Fucking-Queen.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey~  
> Thank you so much for reading this, it's the first thing I've posted here. I've dabbled in fic before, but this is the first thing I've done here. I also think this means I'm in the Car's Fandom now so...alright.  
> This was a gift for my girlfriend after a night of analyzing how this world works.  
> As of 11/16/18, this has been edited.


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